


Creampuff Week Drabbles

by rebelantix



Category: Carmilla - Fandom
Genre: CreampuffWeek, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelantix/pseuds/rebelantix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of writes put together for Creampuff Week, held by carmillaevents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fireworks

                If there is a single holiday that I, Carmilla Karnstein, positively _dread,_ it’s New Year’s. Sure, it was fun when I was younger, mortal, and my life really had no meaning, aside from making it enjoyable whilst waiting for death to claim my soul. As the years passed, the drunken celebrations grew tiresome. The drinks became tasteless; the people were suddenly bland and boring to speak with. The whimsy was revived when I travelled with Mother around the world, watching the people welcome a new beginning in their own merry way. The awe faded soon enough, as we made our way around the Earth the fourth time, playing the same sadistic game. There was nothing new to discover. Tradition is the devil… It’s exciting and eventful the first time around, yet it always becomes a bore when you’ve seen everything too many times.

                My least favorite thing wasn’t the naïveté of the humans celebrating another rotation around the Sun, however.

                Oh no, the feature I most hate happens to be th-

“FIREWORKS, SO MANY FIREWORKS!” LaFontaine’s enthusiastic voice echoes, followed by Kirsch’s psyched whooping and the sound of a heavy weight being dropped on the floor.

                Immediately I feel as if the walls around me are moving in and my skull seems to be a few sizes too small for my brain. Memories overcome my vision. Faint. Flashing. Colorful explosions erupt behind my eyelids and the booming of bombs rings in my ears. Opening my eyes isn’t even an escape, all I see is the red of the blood I was imprisoned with, Jesus Christ is this room getting smaller?

                “Carmilla! You’ll never guess what we just… Carmilla?”

                Even through my hysteria I recognize her voice – light and soft, laced with a bit of adorable, yet awkward imbecile. I turn my head slowly, as it feels like a massive boulder, and for the first time I realize that I’m clutching the armrests of my chair so hard that my fingers have left imprints in the slick wood. The way her heartbeat speeds up signals terror, but her eyes show worry. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

                A few strides and she’s at my side, bending slightly to cup my face. The rigidity of my muscles softens as her fingers push back my hair, nails faint against my cheek… I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and swallow the cotton ball in my throat. “Kirsch, Kirsch, he needs to- uhm, he needs to,”

_Beautiful, Karnstein, that sentence is enough to make Shakespeare cry. A true work of art._

                “Kirsch needs to what, Carm?” Laura’s voice is unwavering, but her uneasiness has grown tenfold. Her hands are on either of my shoulders now, her head tilting slightly to my right. I see movement in the archway and my gaze snaps to my new audience. Danny and LaFontaine stand side-by-side, LaFontaine’s energized grin fading into something more melancholy and a bit more concerned. Danny seems unostentatious, unbothered by my uncharacteristic nervousness. If anything, I think, it gives her a kick. Kirsch barrels in with a pointless explosive two times his size, hiked over his shoulder like a flour-sack. His face shows an overall sense of child-like giddiness.

                If my heart wasn’t already stopped, it is now.

                Laura glances from the trio, to the pyrotechnic, before her irises slowly drag back to me. Brown eyes meet my own before I bolt from the scene, shoving Kirsch to the side and nearly ripping the door off of its hinges in the process.

~-~-~

                My shoulders hit the tree trunk with so much force that I think I hear the wood crackling. I allow myself to lean into its support before I slide down onto the ground, burying my face into my knees. I usually don’t feel this much emotion for something so… insignificant.

                Let me get this straight, reader, the list of things I’m genuinely afraid of is very, _very_ short. Whenever New Year’s rolls around, I usually run off to some place secluded and quiet for the night… and I intend to stick to that custom. I’ve always kept it a secret, my fear… Until now, I mean, the cat’s out of the bag. Maybe not entirely… If I decide to go back tonight, there’s a likely chance I’ll have to come up with some story backing up my miniscule panic attack and I’ll need to attempt to suffer through the rest of the night listening to Xena and the Zeta light up the sky.

                Running away from my problems doesn’t seem like too bad an idea. The Anglerfish God wouldn’t be the forefront of my problems, I wouldn’t have to deal with these useless feelings, I wouldn’t have to worry about, y’know, accidentally lighting a hoard of pyrotechnics on fire _inside the house_.

                “What am I thinking? I can’t leave them alone here; they’ll get themselves killed, some way or another. The Angler-God will get loose, radioactive ants will use their bodies to build some giant cadaver anthill, or something of the sort.” I bury my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. “I shouldn’t have even thought about running away, I mean, it’s just fireworks.  Worst case scenario, I get a face full of colorful sparks.”

                “Carmilla! Where are you? It’s really cold out here and I don’t mean to interrupt your emotional breakdown and probably really painful flashbacks but I- oh, hi Carmilla.”

                To prevent further babbling, I had stepped out from behind my oaken blind and I’m now within arm’s reach of Laura. “You should keep your voice down, Creampuff. You never know what’s out here in the big, scary woods.”

                “I have a decent idea. If the monsters are anything like you, I’ll just, maybe, give them sugary treats and gift them really morbid young adult books to read. And flammable materials. I would also lecture them about cleaning their hair out of the shower drain,” Laura smiles cutely, her eyes narrowing as her lips draw back. _Why did I ever think running away was an option?_

                She takes a step closer, advances to lace her fingers through mine. She gazes at our joined hands and then her eyes travel up my arm, over my shoulder, to my eyes. I can tell that she’s rife with anxiety, and my disappearing act hasn’t made it any easier on her. “Are you okay?”

                Her voice is gentle. It reminds me of calmness, like a lake when no one is around to clutter the air with sounds. It makes me think back to the time of our first kiss, the one after Danny had carried me back to the dorm room. After I had been dead for a few days. After I’d killed my mother.

                Suddenly my mind begins to race at warp speed and I really feel dizzy.

                Laura seems to sense this, as her eyebrows cinch and her jaw tightens in worrisome fear. “You’re not okay.”

                “I’m alright, sweetheart. I just…”

                Dammit, I feel like I’m swallowing cotton balls again; before I manage to make a blubbering idiot out of myself, I draw her in close to give her a tight hug. She squeaks from surprise and I assume it’s from my not-too-human squeeze, so I relieve some of the pressure. My face buries itself under her jaw but my lips aren’t seeking nourishment, no, my lips are running faster than I’ve ever physically ran and it seems no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop them. I can’t steel them closed. I begin to tell her about my overwhelming hatred for any holiday that involves fireworks, and to save you all the choking and my struggle with holding back traumatic memories, I’ll give you the watered-down version.

                “It sort of started after I’d broken from the coffin. I was in a warzone for what felt like eternity. I had no idea where to go, who to see, I didn’t know what was going on. Some of the soldiers found me and took me back to their safe point. I saw so many bodies… So many limbs without owners. Usually I’m not sensitive to those kinds of things but it was the first time I was out since being sealed, it was the very first thing I laid my eyes on after being freed. I was… covered in blood, as you’d probably think. The smell of types different from the stuff I was sealed with assaulted my nose. The screaming of wounded people, of gunshots, of bombs being released, dropping, detonating in the distance… I was free for but a few hours and I’d already developed a case of PTSD.

                “Fireworks always reminded me of those first hours out of the coffin. They often took me back to the bloodshed and the missing limbs, seeing a horrified expression etched on a man’s face as he wiggled his stump of a leg. It reminded me of humanity’s cruelty to itself… Yet at every turn of the New Year, everyone would cheer and act as if nothing had happened. Like the next revolution around the center of your solar system would wash all of the past evils away, as if the souls of the murdered would be satiated because hey, as long as there’s wine and dancing, the fact that they died means nothing…” I heave in a great sigh, nuzzling the space between Laura’s neck and shoulder.

                “Humans are shitty.” She huffs, running her fingers over my neck and back down through my hair. “That’s a given, and I’m really sorry that that happened to you – not that it takes away any of the pain or memories that you’ve experienced but I really, truly am sorry, and I want to help you. I want to watch the fireworks with you… Well, we don’t have to watch the fireworks. I just, I want you to kiss me when the clock turns to twelve. I want to be with you. I want to welcome this, new revolution around the sun, with you.” She leans back and looks slightly upward to me, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Fireworks or not, I’m going to be with you.”

                If my heart wasn’t decaying and probably rotting inside of my chest, it would be melting right now. I feel queasy. “Well… it’s only about eleven-forty. We can head back. I’ll… see if I can handle the screaming of wounded warriors in the corners of my subconscious.”

                The smile I she was hinting at fades entirely, a new wave of nervousness washing over her tiny, beautiful face. Without another moment’s hesitation, I grab Laura’s hand and we set off, back to our ‘home’ and to what’s eventually going to be my downfall.

~-~-~

                Laura and I spent ages tearing the house to pieces, looking for anything to muffle loud noises. Whenever she found something, we’d test the material by shoving it in my ears and having LaFontaine, Danny, and Kirsch march around the home banging on various pots and pans and screaming at the top of their lungs. Needless to say, Perry’s tolerance for their yelling grew extremely thin and we had to cut our hunt short; for the noisemakers’ safety.

                I sit down on the intricate chair, my elbows on my knees and my face (once again) hiding my hands.  I peek through my fingers across the room to Laura’s camera, in an attempt to avoid a big, brown pair of eyes boring distressed holes in my forehead.

                “You can stay and watch the show, cutie,” I mutter. It’s good to have her fawning all over me and all, but the whole worrying thing sort of feels… weird. There are so many other things for her hair to fall out over.

                “I don’t _want_ to. That’s not what it’s about,” She takes another step towards me, placing her hand on my chin and guiding my eyes to hers. “It’s about spending tonight with you. I don’t care about pretty explosives or colors erupting through the sky. None of that’s important.

                “You’re upset, I can tell. I don’t want you to leave when you’re upset because to be completely honest, I don’t really trust you.”

                “Wait, what? You don’t trust _me?_ What the hell am I going to do, Hollis? Slaughter an entire town just because I can’t handle the wonderful booming sounds? Oooooh, excuse me, my inner voice seems to mistake them for fricken’ noises of _explosive death!_ And another thin-”

                Laura pulls me up to meet her lips, effectively halting my angry ranting. All too soon she pulls away, but the look on her face doesn’t convey contriteness, or even bother, but she’s smiling and in her voice there’s a hint of laughter. “I don’t trust you because you might rob a liquor store without me, or go off on some glorious, wonderful vampire journey.”

                “You know I’ve had enough of the heroic vampire bullshit.” I heave in another sigh, glimpsing at her lips before jumping back to her eyes. “I don’t know if I could take it from anyone else but you.”

                Her smile strengthens; her hands go up and around my neck before she pulls me close for another, longer kiss. I feel the feather-light brush of her fingertips at the top of my spine, just at the base of my neck. My hands slide around the curve of her hips, rest loosely at the bottom of her back. She pulls back for just a moment, gazing up at me through half-closed eyes, and I can just barely see the goofy, drunken smile on her lips.

                Just as I’m about to lean in for another, more non-family friendly kiss, Kirsch charges into the room, beaming as if he’d just found the cure to cancer inside a generic-brand cereal box. “I just remembered! One of my bros’ dads works construction n’ when we were throwing cherry bombs at the Angler-Dude, he gave us some ear plugs so our hearing wouldn’t like, get worse. Because of the echoes of so many cherry bombs going off at once. And being in a cave. And. Yeah.” He digs in his pocket for a moment before producing a pair of bright pink earplugs on a neon green string, holding them triumphantly out to me.

                I’d imagine the look on my face is something skeptical, but the smile Laura is giving me combined with Kirsch’s proud look is enough to make me hesitantly accept them. “I already cleaned off all the ear goop so you don’t need to worry about that! We’re starting the fireworks in like, five minutes. So if you could pop those babies in and head outside, we’ll get this show on the road!”

                With that, Kirsch leaves. “He’s like a bull in a god damn China shop,” I plop back on the chair, rubbing my left temple while inspecting my new ear protection. They look fresh out of the package. It seems like Kirsch actually did clean them off. “Yeah, but he’s thoughtful. That was pretty sweet of him, don’t you think?”

                “Yeah, whatever, buttercup.” I mutter, squishing both buds down before slipping them in my ears. Once they puff up, I hear nothing. I hear Laura’s muffled voice, see her tilt her head.

                “I can hardly hear you,” I remark, before her trademark grin sets upon her expression once more. She grabs my hand and yanks me from the chair, leading me outside and face-first into terror.

~-~-~

                It seems the earbuds worked their magic.

                I spent most of my night with Laura glued to my side. When we first stepped out into the chilly night air, we found the rest of our group huddled on a blanket that Perry so thoughtfully laid out on the ground for us. Not far off was a small group of Summers and Zetas, preparing the fireworks display for the night. LaF put up a countdown on their computer and we all did the silly ’10, 9, 8…’ thing. When the clock hit twelve, Laura and I fell backwards onto the blanket in a kiss that would make Auguste Rodin proud. Danny, Kirsch, and LaF all raced to light the first firework; in the end, Xena and the Zeta stopped too soon to argue over lighter-rights, so LaF seized the moment and let those suckers fly.

                I’ve never really enjoyed New Year’s.

                But as I sit here, with Lauronica Mars and her dorky friends, _my_ dorky friends, I find that maybe it has room to grow on me again.

                If she keeps kissing me like _that_ at every turn of a new year?

It may just become my favorite holiday.

               


	2. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LaFontaine and Perry start their travels west across the United States.
> 
> Really no plot to this little write, I just wanted some LaFerry fluff. Yay bullshitting.

Getting to America was easy, no doubt, getting a couple of plane tickets and loading up a few  bags of necessities was a cake walk. Hailing a taxi to the nearest gas station, simple. Stealing a car was much more complicated. Not because  hot-wiring  a vehicle is difficult, but because a certain floor don stopped me mid-wire to lecture me about good morals and leaving things in their place (to keep the balance of things).  

When the owner skulked out from the gas station with his ridiculously long bear locks and a leather face that would make a cow jealous; yeah. That’s when things went hay _wire_. Heheh. Pun intended.  

He pulled a  Seecamp  LWS32 out of his boot and aimed it on Perry, demanded that she get in the  back of the car. Then I got violent.  

He only got a few punches to my ribs. I had eventually hit him in the face so many times that his leathery cheeks soon looked like  Carmilla’s  dinner napkin. Perry pulled me off, had me finish wiring the car, and we drove. We left him there, in a befuddled pile on the pavement. 

Perry drove until we were about three and a half hours away from the scene of the brawl. I could see the tension in her posture; the ramrod straight back, the bones in her wrists sticking out from clutching the wheel so hard. It was only when I told her to pull over did she break and relax. Luckily, Leather Man left us a mattress in the back to sleep on. I managed to cut off a small sample of the weird stain  in the fabric  to analyze back at Silas before Perry decided to flip it over. 

The night was easy. I often slept in because my comrade was all about punctuality, _the early bird catches the worm_ , and such junk; though when I wake that morning, Perry is still asleep.

She looks sort of calm, cuddled up under the wool blankets. Every so often her eyebrows pinch together but her expression would be tranquil once more in a moment's notice. I watch her only for a few brief seconds before I began to search for clothing.

Aft er I find an outfit, I climb to the front of the front of the car and buckle in the driver's seat. I start it up, and drive as carefully as I can westward. I be sure to avoid the potholes so Perry can have a better sleep... I mean, she deserves it.

It's a few hours later when she wakes up. I hear a soft yawn, see her bare shoulders, watch her arms stretch out in the rearview mirror. When she turns around, I quickly avert my eyes back to the road. "At least you're attempting to act normal," I hear her say, accompanied by a light giggle. Her lips press against the back of my right shoulder, her left hand creeping over the corner of the seat to rest on my left arm. "It isn't every day I wake up next to a very pretty, very nude girl." I say, turning my head slightly to smirk at her. "Get some clothes on, it's chilly and this heater really sucks." 

Perry gives me a soft sigh before slinking to the back of the vehicle, rummaging through our things (as well as organizing my bags as 'secretly' as she can) to find a  coverup . She shuffles to the front, slipping onto the passenger's seat and pulling her knees up to her chest. I do my best Mission Impossible impression trying to give a normal sideways glance, before giving in and turning my head to look at her. I'm afraid that I'm gawking like a teenage boy looking at his first nudie magazine, but when her eyes meet mine, my heart slows. I could spend all day looking at her irises... So bright and green. 

I can see the corner of her lips draw up. Perry brings her hoodie sleeved hands up to her mouth.

I glance at the crest on the left breast area of the hoodie, and find the Silas crest peeking out from behind her arm.

_That's my hoodie._  

_ And, dammit, she's not wearing pants. _

We  spend the first hour of our  drive to Cheyenne, Wyoming in quiet.  Perry makes fidgety movements as she checks the radio stations in an attempt to avoid looking at the messy vehicle we lifted. Sometimes I catch a second to look at her, curly hair falling over her shoulder, small wrinkles lightly formed between her eyebrows. She usually gets this look when she's concentrating hard on something, but even  she wouldn't think about finding a radio station this much. Honestly, you'd think she was trying to find the cure to cancer or some other business. Maybe she's thinking of removing the stain on the underside of our backseat mattress. 

When she finds a decent station, a fond smile crosses her face. She cranks up the volume before  reaching across the space between us for one of my hands. "Sing it for me? Please?"

The general air around her is uncharacteristically relaxed, but it's something that I could get accustomed to very quickly. 

_ "I was scared of dentists and the dark, _

_ I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations _

_ Oh, all my friends are turning green! _

_ You're a magician's  assis tant  in their dream... _

_ Oh, oh, and they come unstuck." _

Perry's expression is that of overwhelming joy, her imposing smile a key, lovely feature of her face. I've always found her grin something to fixate on, something to study. But not in a creepy way. Not in a 'I'm going to go into the Anglerfish crater to hunt down some dead bodies' type study. 

_ "Lady, running down to the riptide, _

_ Taken  away to the  dark side _

_ I  wanna  be your left hand man. _

_ I love you, when you're singing that song and _

_ I got a lump in my throat  'cause _

_ You're  gonna  sing the words wrong." _

After a few more jam sessions (which amounts to us screaming our favorite songs at the top of our lungs and rolling the windows down to sing at passers-by), we pull off to the side of the road to sleep for the night. Perry slips off the hoodie to expose her bare shoulders once again, before shimmying under the blankets. I sidle in next to her soon after she settles, nuzzling the top of her head as her breathing evens.

I stay awake listening to her. I find that she makes little noises as she slips, content and worried. There's nothing new there. I even catch her murmuring my name. 

She whispers it softly, lovingly even, but there's a hint of pleading. A hint of need. She makes little fists on my chest and I can't help but to pull her closer and slide my palm down her spine, rubbing the lower lift of her back. "I'm here baby, don't fear."

She eases. Her worried expression doesn't come back that night, she just stays snuggled under my chin, nestled warmly against me. 

Part of me knows that I'm in love with Lola Perry.

I think the other part is just trying to understand how I got so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How fitting it is for me to write this, because I'm going on an eleven and a half hour trip halfway across the country! Anyway, here it is.
> 
> Enjoy, Creampuffs~


	3. Paint Guns

My breathing is hard and my heart was thudding in my ears. The gun bounces against my  shoulderblades , heavy in its  thunk ,  thunk ,  thunking . The demigod should be right behind me, no doubt, but with his lacking genius, he could've gotten lost; oh, how I desperately pleaded he got at least an ounce of his aunt's wisdom. 

There is a chance that I am too fast for him - being a werewolf has its benefits, after all. A powerful sense of smell, speed, and strength are just a choice few of my many capabilities.

"Here  Wolfie , here girl!" Laura's voice rings throughout the trees, a little farther behind me, followed by a lighthearted laugh. Hatred for the nickname flares up in my chest, but I swallow my pride and continue my trek north. I hear Kirsch's labored breathing suddenly, as he materializes out of the darkness beside me.  "Damn  Xena , you're too freaking  fas -"

I grab ahold of his arm, pulling him with me as I dive into a thick clump of bushes. My palm claps over his mouth to prevent any unneeded noises.  Not long after, the pair of bloodsuckers zips by, raising only a couple leaves in their wake.  When I can no longer hear Laura's musical laughter, I poke my head out of our hiding place.

Only to hear a gun cocking in my ear.  "Get up, slowly."

I turn my head slightly to the right to see Kirsch drop his weapon and raise his hands. Hesitantly, I follow his lead.  Once we're on our feet and out on the path,  LaF  unclips the shoulder-strap of my gun, leaving me defenseless.  Perry takes our paint magazines from our weapons, stacking them in a small bag at her hip. She tosses them back to our feet. "Sorry to do this to you, Danny, but bragging rights are bragging rights,"  LaFontaine  shrugs a shoulder before adjusting their protective glasses.

"And I think this is the most normal thing any of us have ever done together," Perry adds with a smirk, leaning over to kiss her partner's cheek. "You take the left, I'll go right." 

"Aye  aye , Chief."  LaF  nods before concealing themselves behind a tree, near the bushes we were previously hiding in.  Perry ignites a small ball of fire and pushes it up over the trees. It's impossibly bright; there's no way to  not  see it. 

Laura soon shows up, gun  at the ready. " Carm ! Look  what I found."

I feel a breeze on my neck, and a low chuckle some ways behind me. "Good job, Cupcake." The cold barrel of her gun presses into my back. "Seems they're out of ammunition,"  Carmilla  muses, before she takes a step back. "Should I  shower them from the back first, or do you want to make them a bloody two-piece mural?" 

** "EAT PAINT, BLOODSUCKERS!" **

LaFontaine  and Perry jump from their covers, unleashing a storm of blue paint. One strikes my cheek, but only stings a moment. "Danny! The bushes!" 

I turn my head and see Kirsch army-crawling to cover, into some hedges a bit down the path. Quickly I crawl after him, listening to Laura and  Carmilla  squealing in mock-terror. 

Once in the bushes, Kirsch hands me a full magazine. My eyes go wide, and I barely contain the urge I have to hug him. As we reload our weapons, I feel the tingly wave of excitement bubbling up in my chest. "See you on the battlefield !" He says, rolling out of the bushes to join the scramble. 

I'm only a blink behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short length and probably bad plot, I was pressed for time and really didn't have much muse for this one. 
> 
> Just kidding, I had a whole lot of muse, it just didn't come out the way I wanted to word it. So I sorta settled for this. I promise tomorrow's prompt will be so much better, and a bit more lengthy. 
> 
> Enjoy somewhat, Creampuffs~


	4. Dreams

"Laura? Laura baby, the kids are awake." 

Carmilla's  fi n gers comb  my hair back over my ear before her lips brush my cheek. "You better hurry a n d get up before they scamper i n  here like little beasts." 

" Mmmmm ?" I ope n  my eyes a ti n y bit a n d lea n  back agai n st her, cuddli n g i n to my pillow.  Light, high-pitched laughter ri n gs throughout the house , alo n g with the sou n d of ru n n i n g feet o n  wood floori n g.  I push myself up i n to a sitti n g positio n , lazily lea n i n g  agai n st  Carmilla . Her arm slides arou n d my shoulders a n d my head i n sti n ctively fi n ds a place to settle o n  her shoulder. A boy with short, somewhat sa n dy  hair appears at the doorway first, halti n g  just before the threshold of the room. He's joi n ed by a two other girls; o n e of them is slightly taller tha n  him  while the other barely comes up to his elbow.

The smallest o n e makes a few sig n s with her ha n ds,  taki n g shaky steps forward towards the bed.  Carmilla  swi n gs her legs over the edge of the bed a n d sig n s back to the child, before slidi n g off the bed a n d  crouchi n g  dow n  with her arms out. The little girl puts o n  a n  expressio n  of joy as she reaches her mother's embrace.

The boy takes a ru n n i n g leap o n to the bed, crawli n g swiftly up  n ext to me before lyi n g his chi n  o n  my abdome n . "Good mor n i n g Mama," He whispers, a timid smile spreadi n g across his lips. 

The remai n i n g  girl strides to the foot of the bed, a n d I pick out a resembla n ce betwee n  her a n d  Carmilla . The eyes, the hair, the impeccable jawli n e, eve n  the  _eyebrows_.  "M or n i n g, mum," She says, with a voice that could comma n d a battalio n , if she so wished to choose that career path.  My child could be like the Black Widow.

A feeli n g of disbelief settles over me, washes i n to the pit of my stomach, but it is soo n  overtake n  by pure, u n bridled happi n ess.  Carmilla  takes a seat o n  the bed agai n , with the small girl o n  her lap, holdi n g tight to the shoulders of her shirt. "Elle? Did you get Marius a n d Lilly their breakfast?"

I take a look down at Marius, who has crawled up to nestle his head under my chin, his hand at my collarbone. My arms wrap around him in passive defense, and I place a kiss on the top of his head. His hair, his general appearance ... He doesn't look anything like  Carmilla , but more like me. 

Another look at the youngest child, Lilly, and I find that she shares to alike features with either of us. Her eyes are a clouded blue, her hair a peculiar hue of red. A shade that somewhat reminds me of Danny.

"I haven't. We wanted to come  up and say good morning first." Elle says, nodding firmly. Marius nods as well, trying to mimic his sister's imposing demeanor. "Well, I'm getting a bit  peckish  myself. You three run down and start breakfast, we'll be down in a moment to help." 

Marius scrambles off the bed and races around Elle, sprinting through the doorway , and all we get as a parting notion is a hasty "Race  ya  down!" partnered with innocent laughter. Lilly squirms in  Carmilla's  arms, and once she's freed from her mother's hold, she scampers over to Elle. All I see next is the older girl wrapping her arms around Lilly, before they're gone. 

I hear a sigh, and my eyes turn over to my partner, who flops down onto the sheets beside me. "This is all I could have ever asked for." She says, her head falling to the side, her gaze meeting mine. "Me too," I reply, sliding my hand over her head, to her left cheek. I see adoration in her eyes, and I can't help but feel pure love for the woman beside me. I would never have asked for anything different. 

She props herself up on an elbow before leaning close to kiss me.

My eyes open.

It's dark, except for the clock on my nightstand flashing three blocky numbers.  _3;47._  

Carmilla snuggles into me, her nose pressed in between my  shoulderblades , her arms looped loosely around my waist. Her breathing is slow and even, a telltale sign that she's sleeping. Every so often she'll make a soft noise or a long, drawn out  mmmm  that's often accompanied by the gentle pressure of her embrace  tightening around me. The rise of her chest against my lower back puts me in a tranquil state; I sleep better when she's holding me. 

I turn carefully in her arms, sliding down so my head is  nested comfortably on her chest.  My hands go up the back of her shirt,  fingers  trac ing  her spine for a while before her breathing lulls me to  back to  sleep. 

I certainly hope I have that dream again.


End file.
